Page 52 of Destined to be a Duchess
Anthony glanced sideways at the maids on standby. His mother tactfully called them away, patting the seat opposite her after Anthony closed the door behind them. Rain fell in sheets beyond the windows, drowning out most of the sound from the house, except for the fire, which crackled loudly in the hearth. Anthony sunk into his own armchair, his wet clothes and cravat clinging to his skin.
“Nothing was as I expected it,” he replied vaguely. He hesitated, having rarely kept secrets from his mother. She could read him like a book. “I knew full well that I would experience some difficulty in reconnecting with father’s old friends, and yet what transpired was ...” He pressed a hand over his eyes, unable to find the right word. “I will not think back on the party as a triumph. But before you worry, nor was it a disaster.”
Not a disaster yet, anyway, he thought.It remains to be seen how history remembers the events of that week.
“Do you really expect me to draw a valid conclusion from that description?” His mother tilted her head to the side, smiling sadly. “Tell me precisely what happened to make you feel this way.”
“You will not like it.”
“And why not?”
“Because I believe I have discovered something that brings into question Father’s death, which you have beseeched me to leave in the past.”
Catherine’s mouth opened and closed. She leaned away from him, falling against the back of her armchair with a cushionythud. “Oh, Anthony. What could you possibly have found?”
“I did not attend the party expecting to make an enemy of him.” He ignored the dismissive tone in her voice. He deserved it for aggravating her fresh grief. “But before I answer your question, I must ask one of my own. What did you make of Warren’s friendship with Father?”
“A strange question ...” Catherine furrowed her brow, but she seemed willing to entertain him. “I will not pretend to have been Warren’s greatest admirer. Edward had Warren for company, and I had Rosamund. But he seemed to make your father happy. That was cause enough not to question the friendship. Now, why do you ask?”
“What I discovered could mean that everything we thought we knew about them was wrong.” Anthony leaned forward on his elbows, carefully measuring his words to avoid concerning his mother. “Did Father ever mention a sale between him and Warren? A painting?”
Catherine frowned and shook her head. “Not that I recall. But there were many things your father and Warren did to which I was not privy. All men have their secrets.”
“Regardless, one of Father’s favourite paintings found its way into Warren’s possession. Yet when I asked Warren about the items missing from Father’s collection, he lied to me and said he had no idea about Father selling anything.” Anthony sighed, realizing he sounded like a madman. “And I have a feeling that it was not the only lie.
There was something about how he handled me at the party like I was a linchpin in some plan ... You must think I’m out of my mind.”
“You’re my son, Anthony,” Catherine stressed. “By nature, I am blind to even your most egregious faults. I would not think you were mad if you started doing cartwheels around the coffee table. But even so, I know you would not accuse another of wrongdoing unless you had good reason.
And I am sorry you felt that Warren looked at you that way. One could assume he considers you an apt replacement for Edward. You are so similar, after all. And Warren is likely grieving as much as we are.”
Anthony didn’t believe that.
“No,” he said. “Warren does not look at me with a mote of respect. And some of the things he suggested ...” Anthony paused, unsure he wanted to hear what his mother had to say about his marriage prospects.
“He plainly said that Father had been waiting for my return to England to broach the topic of marriage with me. Apparently, he and Warren had decided that they were going to advocate for a match between Eliana and me ... Did you know about this?”
His mother was quiet for a moment, eyes darting back and forth. Anthony hated the thought of causing her turmoil—but some questions had to be asked.
“I knew there had been talks. For decades, at that,” Catherine admitted. Her eyes flamed with outrage. “But Edwardneveractively championed a betrothal between you. Of the two of us, I was more inclined to see you marry Eliana. Your father thought you were mismatched and always claimed as much to me.” She leaned back, thinking.
“I would say it’s possible he changed his mind.” She paused. “But it isnotpossible that he would have told Warren instead of telling me.”
“Which means that Warren lied about Father’s endorsement of the match.” Anthony felt a fire light within him. He gritted his teeth, burning with anger on behalf of his father.
“I have a terrible feeling that Warren has used Father’s death as a means to get what he wants. And why should he not want me to marry Eliana? She would become a duchess. Our families would be connected by more than just friendship—”
“Anthony, you should not be hasty,” his mother warned, holding up a hand. “I understand that you are upset, but these theories of yours ...” She pressed her eyes shut, trying to process Anthony’s allegations. “Edward trusted Warren with his life. You must take that into account before blindly accusing Warren of profiting from his death.”
“Ihavetaken it into account.” Anthony rose from his seat, needing to move before his rage overwhelmed him. “And I know it to count for nothing because I, too, once trusted Warren like a second father. Trust obviously means nothing to him.”
Anthony stopped pacing in front of the hearth, tearing off his wet cravat. He relished the warmth of the fire on the exposed skin of his neck. The flames had a calming effect on him as he waited for his mother to speak again. He did not want to go to war with Warren alone. But he would have no choice if his mother, like his father, had bought whatever fantasy Warren had sold them.
“Say that Warren did lie to you about Edward’s wish to see you marry his daughter ...” Catherine said calmly. “What difference does it make? You are your own man. You need not continue thisalliance just to honour your father. Let the past rest, as I have said time and time again. If Warren wishes to see you married to Eliana, you need only say no,Anthony.”
Anthony swallowed hard, staring into the flames. Marianne’s face appeared in the fire, and he let his head hang forward with the memory of his mistake. He could not let Catherine know what he had done to Marianne. The truth would break her heart—or worse, she would blame Marianne for Anthony’s transgression and send her away. His mother might have eventually accepted a match between them, butneverunder the present circumstances.
This was one battle he needed to fight alone, for his father, for Marianne, for himself. He thought back to Warren’s lies, searching for something in his memory—a thread that could unravel the marquess’ story ...
